Day 1
I’m talking to this guy at the bar with longish dark brown hair and dimples. He leans forward to take a drink, his wavy locks fall into his face, and he brushes them aside. His button-down shirt is partly open. I get an eyeful of a tan well defined, but not overly muscled, male body. He has dark chocolate brown eyes that hint at mischief, sparkling when he laughs. He rubs a hand over his close-cut goatee. A beautiful rhythm of Spanish words flow from his gorgeous pink lips, not that I understand what he’s saying. All I can think about is kissing them.
I lean back on the bar stool and almost lose my balance. I’m drunk, but I don’t remember drinking that much. I shake my head, as I try to loosen my stuck cogs. He motions me to lean forward, as if he has a secret to tell, and I oblige with a smile. He smells of mahogany, black pepper, and honey.
“Mmmmm.” I close my eyes and breathe in deeper. Mmm, a tall drink of chai. I take another sip of my drink, and the room spins. Then I’m falling though the clouds. The clouds break and I can see the ground fast approaching.
Day 2
My body tenses, and I open my eyes to possibly the worst hangover I have ever had, and my stomach hurts. How much did I drink last night? Maybe I really was at the bar. Did Mr. Gorgeous slip me something? I drain the glass of water by the bedside, and my head spins. Woah. Maybe I’ll stay in bed, and call room service later for a snack.
Day 3
Another night of falling through the clouds until the clouds break. Once again, I open my eyes to a terrible hangover and my stomach still hurts, but at least the room isn’t spinning. Maybe I ate something bad? If that’s the case, I’m not contagious, and I don’t want to spend another day convalescing in the hotel with only two days of my vacation left. I get cleaned up, and head down to the hotel lobby restaurant. I’m in luck, he’s at the bar with two friends.
Day 4
I’m flying in the sky, then my dream changes. Blood is everywhere, and my cat is there. When I wake, the room is dark and I’m groggy. It takes a bit before I realize I was dreaming, but my head and stomach feel fine. Must be early morning. I slip back into sleep.
Day 6
Next I wake up with a start. There was something I was supposed to do. What was it? I feel around on the side table. My travel alarm clock, where was it? Feels like my bed at home, but I don’t remember going home. Warning bells go off in my head, and pulse in my mind. That’s right I was supposed to meet him for dinner the last night of my trip. I feel pretty hungry and thirsty. I get up in search of some water to cool my parched dry throat. A yawn takes over as I lean to turn on the light. And I pause at an all too familiar smell, the salty iron scent of blood, then begin to remember what happened.
We all left the hotel and drove to my house. I remember telling him no, begging him not to, screaming, and all the blood. My blood, and drinking his blood.
“Oh, God. I drank blood. And later he forced me to feed on two other people.” Thankfully strangers, small favors. I take a deep breath of the bloody scent, then turn on my bedside lamp. The room is spattered with blood, and there are two dead bodies lying slumped in the corner. But where’s my Louisiana vampire?
I stumble to the bathroom, pour a drink of water, and drink it slowly, then a second. Yes, he told me the living dead need to drink a lot of water. It was about all they needed besides fresh blood. A nervous laugh escapes my lips.
I see my medical books stacked by the bed when I exit the bathroom. I remember not wanting to see people I know, the concern I might want to turn them, or worse, eat them. With my courses complete, and only my residency left to go—-that life is gone forever. I’ll never see my little sister again. Can’t risk it. I need to come to terms with this. My body feels heavy, and the weight of what I am pulls me down to the bed. I sit with my head in my hands. That’s when Fluffy, my cat, slinks out from under the bed and rubs against my legs. I remember! Damned me to hell.
“What have I done?” She looks up and gives me a big toothy cat grin. I was so hungry, and then I didn’t have the heart to let him kill her in a more permanent manner. It was not like Fluffy’s diet would change. The cat loves hunting little critters. Fluffy would stay, my immortal companion. I laugh again. My ex always said I’d turn into a crazy cat lady.
“I don’t think this is quite what Eric envisioned, hey Fluffy stuff?” My hand absently strokes Fluffy’s head, and she purrs. I really picked a good name for a vampire cat. Ah yes, the envy of all the other vampires. Fluffy rhymes with Buffy. I laugh at my joke. “Let’s hope we don’t run into any ‘Buffys’” Right Fluff” At least I haven’t lost my sense of humor.
I clean the house, throwing out the litter box with a smile. No more of that. Then I go through my closet, no more gym clothing. Next goes skin rejuvenating creams, vitamin supplements, and bandages. And then I hear the snick of my front door and the scent of mahogany, black pepper, and honey. Lou’s home.
© Copyright P. A. Harper 2022 All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
P. A. Harper writes about sustainability in all its many forms, is the founder of the Brooklyn Writer’s Exchange, loves to read, drinks too much tea, and writes fiction.
Hire or stalk her online at PAHarper.com, Goodreads, on Facebook @AuthorPAHarper, Twitter @AuthorPAHarper, or Instagram @P.A.Harper